


Call me Sir

by Lady_Lyanna_Mormont



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Caning, Dubious Consent, F/M, Light Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex, Sexual Content, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24788509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lyanna_Mormont/pseuds/Lady_Lyanna_Mormont
Summary: Originally written for a non-Potter story that I am writing. I have decided to write a short series...Tom Riddle is her English teacher; Emilia is his 17 year old student. After being caught out after dark, he takes her to his office to dole out some...punishment.
Relationships: Tom Riddle/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

Emilia's heart dropped as the footsteps that approached her got louder and louder. Her almost perfect record, about to be ruined. She pressed herself against the back wall of the alcove, praying that she would not be discovered; but her prayers were in vain, and before she knew it the heavy drapes were ripped back, exposing her to the cold corridor and the eyes of her Professor. Without another word, he seized her by the wrist and pulled her through the labyrinth that they called a school, along the winding corridors and up staircases until they came to a halt outside his office. 

“In,” he said, his voice crisp and clear, and she stepped forwards into the empty room before her. Her heart beat fast and her breath quickened. “What, please tell me, would a good little girl like yourself be doing out late, on a night such as tonight?” he questioned, his voice quiet but commanding.

Emilia could not conjure up a good enough excuse in the time that she had, and she stumbled on her words. “I-I’m sorry Professor, I didn’t mean to… what I mean to say is, I…” she trailed off. 

He was circling her now, how a predator would circle his prey, and she felt herself warm when she saw his eyes trailing the length of her body. He came to a halt behind her, and she did not dare look. Emilia felt his breath on her neck as he closed the space between them. He inhaled deeply, taking in every scent of her, her hair smelled of coconut shampoo and her skin carried the faint scent of perfume. He moved her red curls to one side, placing his lips gently on the nape of her neck, his fingers like feathers upon her shoulders; she was frozen in place, her stomach coiled like a spring, butterflies ready to explode at any moment. 

His hands snaked around her waist, drawing her body close to his, her back pressed against his chest. Her breath hitched as he peppered open mouthed kisses from her shoulder, along her neck until he came upon the sensitive skin behind her ear; he nibbled gently upon the lobe, tugging the soft skin between his teeth, and she felt things that she knew she had never felt before. Her eyelids drooped and her head rolled back against his chest, and she barely noticed that he had guided her across the room to the soft plush sofa. He turned her to face him and pressed his body flush against hers. She quickly found that her legs were no longer of any use, and she wound her arms around his neck and clung to him, a desperate attempt to keep herself upright.

He tilted her face towards his, bringing his face down to her level. He hesitated slightly, only for a second taking a moment to study her soft features, before capturing her lips between his. The kiss was slow at first, but it built up like a fire until she pulled away, gasping, breathless. The butterflies had well and truly exploded now, and they filled every sense; her fingers and toes tingled, and she felt something new, just below her abdomen; a pressure in her stomach. 

“Professor Riddle, Tom, I –” she began. What name would he go by now? Professor Riddle was so formal, and Tom was just the opposite… 

But he captured her lips once more, deepening the kiss and parting hers, his tongue gaining access between her dainty lips. A quiet, strangled moan escaped her lips and she blushed a deep crimson.

“Call me Sir,” he growled, his hand coming up to her neck and his thumb gently caressing her throat, a threat almost. He pressed his body into hers, and she felt something hard between them.

“Y-yes S-sir,” Emilia stammered in response. 

He stepped back suddenly, and Emilia found herself missing the warmth that came from their closeness. She gazed up at him, innocence in her eyes and she waited for his command. 

“Kneel,” he said. Emilia gulped slightly, and obediently got down on her knees, her school skirt barely brushing the floor and the cold stone bit against her skin. He crouched down to her level before slowly unbuttoning the top few buttons on her shirt. She looked delectable, kneeling so innocently before him; under her school clothes she was dressed in a white lace bra, and her nipples showed through the thin fabric. They were soft, and he took her nipple between his fingers and pinched, hard. She gasped in surprise, and her blush deepened when her rosy nubs hardened between his finger and thumb. 

He flattened the palm of his hand against her breast, palming her flesh under her bra, and he planted a kiss next to her ear, nibbling gently.

“S-sir, p-please,” she began, but she did not know what she was asking for. He reluctantly removed his hands from her body and quickly unzipped his pinstriped trousers, pulling them down over the tented pants that they had barely disguised. He stood up tall and removed his hard member from his boxers.

She gasped when she saw it, embarrassed by the brazen display and she closed her eyes.

“Look at it,” he commanded. She slowly opened her eyes and took in the sight before her. She had never seen one in real life; it was different to the ones she had glimpsed online when she had curiously gone looking, and it was different to what she had seen in her Biology books. It was intimidating. Her eyes darted up and he caught her gaze; she was like a deer in headlights, startled. “Touch it.”

She lifted her hands slowly and tried to ignore the trembling. He stood tall and she did not break his gaze, looking at him through her long lashes. Her hand closed around his penis and when she drew her hand towards herself, she was not completely sure what she was doing. She moved her hand, back and forwards, and back again, imitating what she had read about in magazines or what she had briefly seen online, slowly massaging her teacher with her fingers. Her teacher! This was so wrong…

“Kiss it,” he whispered, almost inaudibly. She paused, letting go for a moment, and it sprung upwards, hitting his toned stomach. “I said, kiss it.” 

Her heart beat wildly now as he made a request that perhaps took the situation a little too far for her liking. “B-but Sir, I don’t think I –” as she parted her lips to utter her refusal, he seized her head and pushed his cock into her warm, moist mouth, pumping his hard appendage to the back of her throat. Her protests were muffled, and he barely noticed her feeble attempts to push him away, her feeble attempts to deny him of his pleasure.

His strokes became increasingly erratic and he bared no mind to her wellbeing as he forced his member in and out, until finally he found his release with a grunt, pulling out at the last second and shooting his hot, sticky load onto her tear streaked face. She gasped for breath as she wiped away the concoction of bodily fluids from her face. Her hands shook as she looked up at the man who had, no doubt, taken advantage of her. He looked calm and collected; how could he look calm and collected after such an act?

“You,” he began, his voice hoarse now. “You are a very naughty girl, Emilia James.” Against her brain’s better judgement, Emilia’s heart fluttered slightly, the tight, almost anxious sensation in her abdomen having intensified to new levels now. He gently placed a hand beneath her chin and tugged her to standing, her legs barely holding her up. It was in this moment that she realised her ‘ordeal’ was far from over. 

His hands feathered over her breasts which were now almost completely exposed. He took a seat and pulled her, front down upon his knee, positioning her in such a way that her bottom stuck up into the air. He trailed his hand along her thigh until he found what he was looking for; her damp knickers protecting what little dignity she had left.

Her heart fluttered and the feeling in her stomach spiked as he gently caressed her most private areas.

“You are a little slut, aren’t you? I shoved my dick into your sweet little mouth and your pussy is positively, dripping.” 

She could manage little more than a moan in response, all sense and reason leaving her mind. She did little to stop him from pulling her knickers down from around her waist and over her bottom, exposing her pink lips. He massaged her lower back with his left hand, before bringing back his right hand and striking her bottom, hard. She gasped loudly. He did it again, bringing his hand down harder this time, and she cried out – she wasn’t sure whether it was from pleasure or pain. He lifted his hand again, striking her once more and then he rubbed her bottom firmly. She trembled at his touch and wriggled as if to get back up. Instead he held her firmly in place and traced his fingers along her bum, moving his hands between her pale thighs, not stopping until he came to her soft virgin folds, now uncovered. He massaged a finger against her lips and coated it with her juices, pushing forwards into her. 

She cried out in pain as his finger plunged into her, her tight walls clamping down hard around him. He gently pulled back, before again pushing back into her most intimate area. As he found a rhythm, the pain eased and gave way to pleasure. 

“You will report to my office, every evening, for the next two weeks, for detention,” he growled, punctuating each phrase with the thrust of his hand. "Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, Sir," she barely gasped out between moans.

The tightness was building up within her now and she cried out incoherently. He placed his free hand at the back of her head and pressed her face firmly into the sofa cushion, muffling her cries, and he increased the speed with which he thrust his fingers into her, not relenting until she was overwhelmed by waves of pleasure, her body shaking over and over as she came undone under his touch, and his hand finally came to a rest.

She took a moment to regain her breath, and he let her back up into a seated position. She quietly pulled her knickers back up, covering herself once more, and she straightened her skirt and tucked her shirt back in. His hands closed over the top buttons of her shirt, and gently fastened them with agile fingers.

Emilia finally met his gaze; he brought his mouth to hers once more, kissing her gently, tenderly this time.

“Call me Tom, when it’s just you and me,” he whispered.


	2. Thank You Sir, Spank Me harder!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emilia returns to Professor Riddle's office for a second round of punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this to have more than one installment, however I think we all want to find out what Riddle has in store for Emilia! I hope you enjoy chapter two...

Emilia walked through the narrow halls, her head still spinning from the events that took place the night before. Only in her wildest dreams had she imagined a scenario such as that; her attractive professor taking advantage of her body, the room unlocked so that anyone could have found them. She had felt drunk today, she had been bold in answering questions in class, she had been smart and quick witted, but now her stomach clenched in anticipation for what was to come. He had set a precedent now, but she wasn’t sure she was willing to live up to his standards. The halls were quiet, only the echoes of her footsteps bouncing off the walls; the rest of the students were out on the pitch, getting ready for the game. Emilia wasn’t sad to be missing it. 

Finally, she came to a halt outside his office; a heavy tall door, slightly ajar, so she walked in and looked around. The room was quiet, only a lamp light in the far corner, illuminating the sofa upon which he had…violated her the night before. She blushed at the memory, inwardly cursing her pale skin for giving her away in moments of embarrassment; always so quick to blush. Emilia walked forwards and dropped her satchel onto the table, and she found herself gazing up at the walls. The large wooden panels were covered in tapestries, certificates, and portraits. The previous deputy heads of the school had sat for their paintings and were thus immortalised, oil on paper. All men.

A loud bang interrupted Emilia’s musing and she jumped, spinning on her heel to look at the source of the noise. Professor Riddle was stood with his back to her, and she heard the turn of a key the lock as he secured the room. 

“Letting yourself into my office, Miss James?” her teacher asked, only a small hint of amusement in his voice. “I think you have just earned yourself an extra night’s detention.”

“I’m sorry Sir, it won’t happen again,” Emilia replied, her voice sounding stronger than she felt. He turned to face her, a hint of a smile on his face, amused by her display of strength, and then he walked slowly across the room. He passed each window and pulled across the drapes, blocking out the outside world completely. He came to a stop by his desk and turned his attention back to Emilia. 

“Do you know why you are here tonight, Miss James?” he asked, a simple question. His suit was crisp, and not a hair was out of place upon his head, perfectly coiffed.

Emilia wetted her lips, her tongue darting out, slicking them with her saliva, and she opened her mouth to reply, looking straight past him and focussing on a knot in the dark wood of his desk. “No, Sir, I do not.”

Riddle smiled; he knew he was going to enjoy this one. So young, so defiant, yet so desperate to please; that had become clear to him only the night before when she had put her little hands and mouth to such good use. When he was done with her, she would be like putty in his hands. 

“Miss James, it has come to my attention that you have forgotten how to behave like a good – little – girl,” Riddle said, his words crisp and articulate. “Answering back, staying out late, far past your curfew, and if the rumours among the young men of this establishment are to be believed…” He allowed the innuendo to hang in the air, awaiting her indignant denial.

“Excuse me?” There it was. “Rumours? What rumours?” she demanded. “Whatever rumours you think you have heard about me – well, I can assure you they are false.” Her hands were clenched in tight fists by her side and she continued. “I bet it’s Jonny, isn’t it? Well, he’s just bitter because he asked me out and I said no, I can’t believe that fucking bastard! When I see him, I –!” 

“Enough!” Emilia fell silent. Her little tirade had amused him, but now it was his turn. He turned to his desk for a moment and picked up the long thin rattan cane from his desk, flexing it in his hands. He approached her, one step at a time; she tried to stand her ground, really she tried, but she found herself walking backwards in sync with him, matching his strides towards her, until her back hit the hard panelled wall. “I think we can add ‘bad language’ to your ever-lengthening list of misdeeds, don’t you think?”

Emilia closed her eyes, turning her head to one side and she steadied her breaths. His breath tickled her neck and she stammered, “S-sir, th-this isn’t r-right.” He pulled back for a moment.  
“Ah, so now she decides that she wants to do what is ‘right’,” he mocked, bringing the cane up and caressing her cheeks, trailing it down to the neckline of her uniform. He took her face tightly in his hands, squeezing her cheeks and twisting her head to face him, her eyes flew open in surprise. “You will do as you are told. Exactly as you are told. If you disappoint me, your punishment will be severe. Do you understand?” He smiled as her lip quivered, and he released his grip on her face, stepping back. 

“Yes,” she replied. The cane came down hard, hitting the wall beside her, and she quickly corrected herself. “Yes, Sir!”

“Remove your knickers,” he ordered. For a moment, he thought that she was going to refuse him, but the defiant glint returned to her eyes and without breaking eye contact, she hooked her thumbs over the cotton waistband and drew her underwear down from beneath her pleated skirt and over her thigh high stockings, down her legs until they pooled in a pile at her feet. “Give them to me.” Emilia blushed ferociously, but she bent down to pick them up; she did not want to anger him. Emilia handed her cotton underwear over to him and he pocketed them. “Bend over,” he said, pointing towards his desk. 

Emilia visibly trembled, but slowly made her way to the desk. She tucked her hair behind her ears before planting her hands firmly in front of her, sticking her bottom out behind her. Riddle strode across the room and shoved her down, her chest now pressed against the table, her arms splayed out in front of her. In all her years at the school, she had only faced the lash of the cane once before; that had been enough to put her off bad behaviour for life. Yet here she found herself, bent over the desk of the deputy head, her bottom bared and the cold of the wooden cane pressed against her buttocks in preparation.

“I am going to spank you now,” Riddle stated, as if she hadn’t already guessed. “You will thank me in between each strike. Let us practice. Repeat after me; thank you, Sir, spank me harder.”

Emilia pushed herself back up from the desk in denial. “No, I won’t say that!” But a hand wound its way into her hair and pulled hard, bringing her hear to his mouth.

“Yes, you will. I said – repeat after me!” Emilia whimpered, and choked out the mantra. “Good girl,” he crooned, before pushing her back down onto the desk. 

The first strike stung. “Thank you, Sir, spank me harder.”

The second came down with a similar strength. “Thank you, Sir, spank me harder.”

Three. Four. Five. Six. “Thank you, Sir, spank me harder!”

At the seventh strike, Emilia cried out. “P-please, Sir, s-stop!”

He paused, caressing her tender bottom with his hand, and she sighed. Without warning he pressed his finger against her soft folds, and she gasped; his finger came away wet. The eighth strike came without warning, striking her with a loud crack at the top of her thighs, and she yelped, stumbled to the side, and ran round the desk putting as much distance between her tender flesh and the hard, wooden cane as she could. She panted heavily.

“Please, Sir!” she begged again. He prowled around the desk, dropping the cane to the ground, and she fled across the room, yanking at the heavy handle of the office door. It did not budge, and she turned in dismay to see him turning the key over in one hand. He brought the other hand up to his lips, sucking on his finger, eyes closed in clear delight, cleaning it of her juices. 

She looked away, ashamed. She did not understand why her body betrayed her. The strange feeling had returned to her tummy, coiled and ready to snap at any moment. She could feel the dampness between her thighs, and her heart would not calm. 

“Why would I stop something that we are both so enjoying?” he asked, feigning surprise. He reached down to his trousers now, and slowly unbuckled his belt. “I warned you, Miss James. If you disobeyed my orders, your punishment would be severe.”

For the second time that evening, he seized Emilia by her pretty curls and dragged her across the room away from the door. He pushed her down onto the floor and yanked her jumper up over her head and discarded it beside her, before yanking her tie from around her neck. With skill, he twisted the tie into knots around her wrists, binding them tightly behind her. With one swift pull, he ripped open her shirt, and watched the buttons spring off and bounce across the hard floor. He roughly pulled her breasts from her bra and the cool air had an instant effect on her nipples, which hardened into firm tips. He yanked her to her feet, hands tightly bound behind her and her chest bared. She could not stop the tears from building up and spilling over onto her cheeks.

Riddle smiled. “Are you afraid?” Emilia shook her head in a feeble denial. “Perhaps you should be. Tell me, Miss James; are you a virgin?” Emilia did not speak. “Should I believe the dirty little rumours, then?” 

“No Sir,” Emilia whispered. 

“So, you are?” He smiled when she nodded. “Good. Your less-than-obedient behaviour has got me into a little bit of a situation, and you are going to help remedy it.” He brushed his hand against her right breast and reached down to unbuckle his trousers. There it was again; his long, hard cock bobbed up against his tummy and Emilia found herself unable to look away. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked its length, precum already glistening at its tip. Emilia ripped her eyes away and looked up at him with a mixture of awe and fear upon her face. 

He seized her by the shoulders, spun her around and pushed her down onto the sofa; she could not control her fall and she fell against the firm sofa back, her breasts pressed firmly against the coarse fabric. Moments later she saw the dark leather of his belt come down in front of her eyes, and he pulled it against her throat, restricting her breathing. She felt his cock against her thigh, and his free hand trailed down her back and under her skirt. Her face burned with humiliation as he found her most intimate place and he began his ministrations. 

He pressed two fingers against her tight entrance and massaged them against her folds. She gasped as he dragged a finger forwards, stroking it over her clitoris. He pulled on the belt again, and she leant heavily on his chest, her body moving without her permission. He removed his hand from between her legs and replaced it with his hard member, and he rubbed it along her lips. Emilia jolted forwards, away from his cock, and she struggled against the belt that held her in place.

“N-no,” she choked out. “P-please, n-no!”

“I know how you are enjoying this, Miss James,” Riddle crooned into her ear. “Your body has betrayed you my love. Give in.” The last two words were harsh, commanding and she stopped struggling. He shuffled forwards, pressing her further into the sofa and he continued to tease her, rubbing his hard length between her thighs. Soon she joined his movements, rocking her hips to meet his and she let out a strangled moan.

“P-please, Sir…” she begged.

“P-please – w-what?” he mocked.

“I need…need you,” she whispered.

Riddle did not need any more encouragement. He grabbed her hips hard and she knew he would leave marks; he positioned the tip of his cock against her entrance and pushed hard. She cried out, pain shooting into her stomach, and she wriggled in his grasp. She tensed, and her tight walls clamped down around his cock; he held her still and groaned. He had never imagined she would feel so good. If he had, he would have fucked her sooner. Riddle steadied his breathing and the drew back, ploughing into her once more. He smiled at the soft sobs that she emitted, and soon they turned into gasps of pleasure, his cock deep inside her.

He stilled, and he held her tightly against him. “Tell me you want me to fuck you harder,” he growled into her ear and she let out a keening cry. He pulled against the belt once more.

When he relaxed his hold, she panted, “Please Sir, please fuck me harder!” 

And fuck her he did. He rutted against her hard, thrusting his cock deep into her. Without warning he felt his balls tighten and he came, his hot cum shooting inside her with one final thrust. He pulled out and stood back, watching her trembling body collapse against the soft cushions. She wished to cry at his sudden absence, his cock had filled her so completely and she missed it now that it was gone. She heard him zip himself back up before he pulled against her restraints, unbinding her arms. He turned her face to him and kissed her. Her hands came up around his face and she deepened the kiss, and his hands roamed her body, brushing over her nipples, drawing a groan from her lips.

“You’re still horny,” he muttered against her lips, knowing full well that he had yet to make her cum. He moved his hand between her legs and gently, slowly rubbed her clit. “Tomorrow I am going to fuck you against that window, and you are going to enjoy every second of it. Maybe then, I will allow you to feel your orgasm.” He removed his hand and she whimpered. She pressed her hips against his, and she felt his cock twitch under his trousers. She tried to rub her crotch against his thigh, but he stopped her. “I forbid you to masturbate tonight. If you disobey, you will feel the buckle of my belt against your bare ass. You will spend every waking hour, thinking about what I am going to do to you tomorrow. You will come straight to my office at eight pm sharp. Don’t bother wearing knickers, I’ll only confiscate them again.” 

He helped her dress once more, her ruined shirt disguised by her jumper and he dismissed her from his office, the trickle of semen tickling the inside of her thigh as it dripped down her leg.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little scene. It is my first time writing a story like this, so please please give me some (constructive) feedback! I really enjoyed writing this and would love to write more!


End file.
